


7th Sense

by sweetcinnamonbun



Series: Superhuman [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: A hefty dose of murder, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten is a Little Shit, Demons, Mentioned brainwashing, Mentions of experimentation on superhumans, Mind Manipulation, Prison Breaks, Some really heavy shit, Superhumans are being dehumanized, Ten POV, Ten was a grifter pre meteor event, The slow build of villainy, This is not a good world to be a superhuman in, and it's brought up a few times, mentions of vandalism, mentions of vomiting, no beta reading we die like men, several mentions of guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26711077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcinnamonbun/pseuds/sweetcinnamonbun
Summary: The world is falling apart and too many are turning a blind eye to everything that's taking place. Superhumans are being tagged and marked by threat level. Some aren't coming home. It's almost like there's a threat at every turn and it's starting to color the world of the superhumans who remain in the cities.Of course, not everyone actually sits idly by.
Series: Superhuman [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908217
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	7th Sense

**Author's Note:**

> This actually takes place before Moonwalk (with the exception of the two month time skip), but it felt better to write it after. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy.

I sat in the darkest corner of my favorite cafe, eyes trained on the TV screen mounted on the wall next to the counter. The cafe’s owner asked if I needed the volume turned up, but I answered with a shake of my head. It was just the news and none of it had been any good since the meteors had struck. She shrugged and picked up her now-cold coffee, focusing on it intently as she reheated it with the sparks from her fingertips, satisfied when a slight steam slowly started to rise from the surface.  
Threat level three, she’d told me once. Six years, and she’d still only managed to boil water with her touch. I had smiled at her, telling her that I was only a level four, which was confirmed when a suspicious official had come in and scanned everyone in the cafe later that week.  
If only they knew the truth.  
Today, though, I had my place in the corner, watching the news and occasionally making smalltalk with the generally silent owner when something interesting came up involving The Problem.  
“Can you believe the Americans?” she scoffed, “Claiming that superhumans are free to do as they please and completely glazing over the fact that military service is mandatory for anyone who starts presenting. Doesn’t matter what they can do.”  
I nodded, taking a sip from my iced coffee. “Maybe people should start making a run to Rwanda. News is they’re handling it all really well.”  
“And Iceland,” she added, before taking a long drink from her reheated coffee. “You would think that with all the stories and movies about things like this, that they would have handled it a lot better.”  
I shrugged, “People always fear what they don’t understand.”  
“Doesn’t mean we can’t be disappointed in them,” she sighed, “Got any big plans tonight, Chittaphon?”  
I chuckled to myself, running my fingers through my hair, “I have to work. Then I plan to do some painting.”  
“Please, for the love of god, tell me that the canvas isn’t another patrol car,” she groaned, setting her cup down to pinch the bridge of her nose.  
I blinked a few times, pretending for the smallest moment that I had no idea what she was discussing, but her stern look broke through my facade. “They had just been through here on patrols. You’ve done nothing but follow their rules the whole time you’ve been in business.”  
She sighed heavily before shaking her head, graying hair swaying in her ponytail, “You’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days.”  
“But I’m already trouble,” I replied with a grin.  
She let out a heavy sigh, conceding to my point, “Just as long as you don’t keep bringing all your trouble here.”  
The door to the cafe opened and a few new customers stepped inside, and so the conversation ended and my attention was turned to the television once more. It seemed luck was on my side, and she was preoccupied just as the story discussed someone breaking into the holding facilities, with an unknown number of high-level threats now on the loose. Only one superhuman was suspected of this. How shocking.  
I took another sip of my coffee, looking at the time before standing up and waving a quick farewell, exiting the building and making my way through the streets, trying not to smirk too much at the graffiti I’d thrown up on the sides of rundown buildings. Reminders that we exist and won’t go quietly.  
I’d heard about communities and colonies for powered people like me, but I’d made the decision when this all began to keep myself as low to the ground as I could while living my normal life. When the facilities were being built, my powers had been growing exponentially. It took some focus at the start, but that had changed by the time construction was completed. Everyone had heard the rumors of what was taking place with superhumans and I’d taken it upon myself to scout the place myself. It wasn’t so much of a planned experience as it was a test of the limits of my abilities. And so I’d gone to work. Literally.  
The guards and other workers of the facilities had been fairly susceptible to suggestion, thinking me to be a new hire as a guard. They saw me as someone else, showed me around the place, and answered my questions about the other facilities being built. No one suspected a thing.  
At the time, it was my proudest bit of work until I decided that living on the run wasn’t for me and I’d willingly turned myself in and they’d missed all the signs of my powers. People usually did, to some extent. Thinking I could only read surface thoughts, they’d marked me as a level four threat, missing the fact that the thoughts I’d read were once that I’d placed there myself.  
Funny how they’d missed that so easily while being so suspicious of my every move, catching the flash of blue in my eyes, but not the way my words worked their way into their minds.  
It was easy enough to convince them after that.  
Compound Theta was set a good ways from most of the populated areas, but close enough to where the highest population of superhumans lived. Nothing about the situation was shocking, but it didn’t stop the bile from rising in my throat or the outrage of superhumans from growing. There was going to be a war at this point, but, despite what humans believed, the ones with powers were at a disadvantage. There was no telling what the microchips they’d implanted in us could actually do.  
My eyes shone blue for a moment as I walked past some of the guards clocking in for their new shift. Some of them waved in acknowledgement or quietly greeted me as “Doctor”. As far as they knew, I was just some lab assistant here to help run experiments on some of the older residents (if you could actually call them that. They were being kept here against their will for the past six years and treated as though they were living, breathing nightmares, despite having done nothing wrong). I pulled on the lab jacket, walking through the facility to the labs.  
It wasn’t the first time I’d run a con like this. My goal was to learn more about the microchips, but that didn’t stop me from trying to learn more about the best kept secrets while I was here.  
First secret: Despite what people outside the facilities believed, a level ten threat wasn’t even the highest. According to the scale, there were fifteen, with the ability to expand on the scales. We’d all just been fooled.  
Second secret: There was a classification called Hunter class. I didn’t know the exact specifications on it, but I knew they were powered people who hunted down others with powers. They were currently in search of Basquiat, and had a sneaking suspicion that the place where their scouts kept going missing was the location.  
Third secret: There were eight people who had been locked up since the beginning and moved from facility to facility. No one knew the exact reason, only that they were more powerful than humanity could have ever believed. I didn’t really know what to expect when I met the first one.  
He had been young, attractive, and, as I was warned, highly lethal. Even after years of him being held captive, they hadn’t quite figured out an appropriate holding cell for him, opting for cages inside of cages to contain him. The cell he lived in was rather small in, with enough room for him to stand or lay down, but little else. Anything so much as a bathroom break was done under heavy guard. He’d asked my name when I’d begun, offering no fight, though the slightest movement on his part was met with barked orders to back down. I never understood why he’d been under such heavy guard, only to find out when one of the guards got too aggressive while I was supposed to be collecting samples, ramming the butt of his gun against the metal bars and shouting. The subject, known simply as The Waste, had quietly excused himself taking the two steps towards where the guard stood, and grabbed at the weapon, his eyes narrowed dangerously as the plastic under his hand bubbled and smoked before disintegrating.  
“Do it again and you’re next,” he said simply, walking one of the corners of his cage and taking a seat. The guard had nearly fallen over in shock, backing up on the floor before hitting the lockdown alarm, The Waste giving a long sigh before rolling his shirt sleeve up and holding out his arm with a resigned sigh.  
The guards kept their distance after that.  
The laboratories were kept under guard, more so than the rest of the place. I walked to the computer designated as my own, or at least the lab assistant I’d been impersonating for nearly a month now. A few of the other scientists greeted me in passing, busy with their own tasks and tests to really bother with any sort of small talk. I only had a small window to research what I was looking for before I would be pulled away to collect samples from the X threats.  
To my dismay, my research was cut off even earlier, one of the other lab technicians groaning as she came to a stop in front of me, “Apparently they just brought in three new ones for processing.”  
I frowned and looked at her, “Have they been classed yet?”  
She shrugged, “I’m just supposed to take samples and chip them. But I was hoping that-...”  
I cut her off, holding up a single hand to silence her, “I’m the one who does the tests for the X-level threats.”  
She scowled slightly, “Fine! Fine. I just wanted to see what they can do for myself, but you’re stealing all the fun!”  
My response came as a grunt and a shrug before she stormed off. By that time, I needed to start my rounds, picking up the first batch of paperwork on the one designated The Alchemist. I’d only seen him utilize this once when he’d been given some nearly rotting food in place of an actual meal. He had given me an almost emotionless stare before waving his hand over the tray twice, a bowl of marinated crab forming where the molding food once sat. When the deed was done, he’d looked up at me with a deep frown and asking if I needed to take it for testing. I’d told him I’d take the shells when he was finished, but I was starting to wonder if they were staying willingly, or were under some kind of duress.  
Obviously The Waste and The Alchemist were capable of breaking out on their own, but they hadn’t. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I couldn’t think on it for too long, tucking the first clipboard and the sample kits under my arm as I made my way to the first holding cell.  
He was generally quiet, giving no long answers to the questions I asked, and he was compliant. Today was no different.  
The guards stood near the door, listening intently to our conversation, and so I made a point of saying as little as possible and only going through the motions. Take a sample of something he’d changed and see if he was able to create something more intricate to test his limits. Standard fare, and when I was done, I handed off the samples to one of the guards, intentionally having left some of the necessary paperwork in the cell. I asked him to run the samples to my cart, running back inside the cell and quickly looking for the clipboard.  
“The Web passed on a message,” the Alchemist said quietly, so that the cameras wouldn’t pick up on it, “You’re one of us, aren’t you?”  
I tried not to react, only pausing a moment before I picked up the clipboard, “And if I am?”  
“He says they’re catching on.”  
“They’ll never figure out it’s me.”  
He sighed, “He said you’d say that. The Waste has the next part of the message.”  
Straightening up, I smoothed out my lab coat and turned to the door, “See you tomorrow, Alchemist.”  
He let out a gruff noise as I walked out of the room, picking up the next packet. The Waste.  
Of course The Web knew who I’d see next on the list. He was no fool. He and I would have made an incredible team, were it not for the fact that he’d been captured and I’d been set loose on society once again. He could have tricked the system like I had, but he’d allowed himself to be captured. I wondered for a moment if he’d seen something in the complex collective of alternate futures he could see, but when I’d asked him about it, I’d received only a coy smile in response. As I made my way to the new holding cell where they held the Waste, I started to wonder what he’d seen happen that he’d felt it necessary to spread a message between the other X threats.  
When I arrived at the second cell of the day, The Waste was already patiently waiting for my arrival. The guards had learned to keep their distance from him, keeping behind the glass. I suppose they thought that if he decided to kill anyone, it was better to have one person be the casualty. They could take him out from a distance, I supposed, and they found their lives more worthy of saving than my own.  
If it gave us time to talk, then I’d accept the insult. The compound wouldn’t be standing for long if I had it my way.  
“Doctor,” he greeted, “I have this pain in my neck that won’t go away. What would you recommend for something like that?”  
“Having a bed to sleep on,” I answered, dragging a chair that had been set aside for me until it was placed in front of his cell and I could take a seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Honestly, the treatment in this place is absurd.”  
“They don’t seem to think so. It’s all a necessity to them. They think we can’t control it,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “People like us. Assigned a number and given a name that’s not our own. Isn’t that right, Hysteria?” The way he said the false title to me made my lip twitch in distaste, but I kept my composure.  
“It’s a shameful thing, to be stripped of your name all because the universe decided you should have powers,” I kept my voice low, taking a deep breath before I continued, “I was told The Web had something for me?”  
“Questionnaire first. Don’t want them getting suspicious again.”  
I nodded, going through the questions listed, getting the usual answers and the necessary samples while he muttered the details.  
“The Web thinks something is going to happen soon. Something that will change everything,” he said through gritted teeth, through my whispered apologies as I drew a genetic sample from him, “Something involving The Evil Eye.”  
“I won’t take anyone’s life, if that’s what you’re suggesting,” I replied, knowing full-well the stories surrounding him.  
His voice got even softer, “He wants you to break him out. Tonight.”  
I nearly dropped what I was holding from shock as the words settled in, “You know, I thought we were going to be friends, but apparently the lot of you want me dead.”  
“He’ll explain when you get there.”  
“I doubt it,” I scoffed, “He’s more cryptic than the Alchemist is.”  
The Waste shrugged, leaning on the bars of his cell when he sat back down, “If he weren’t they’d probably keep him under tighter guard.” He paused a moment before looking back up at me. “What’s your name, by the way?”  
“Doctor Shin,” I answered, much to his entertainment.  
“No, like your real name,” he mused.  
I debated not telling him, but he and I had formed and maintained a strange sort of friendship in the month I’d been working at the facility, and so I’d said it quietly, and he’d just nodded quietly.  
“I’m Hoseok,” he replied, looking more than a little pleased that I’d actually entertained his question, “Now you should go check in on The Nightmare.”  
Nodding, I collected my things, pulling the chair off to the side and leaving the collection of cages to return to the hallway.  
The Nightmare was generally a hard case. Today was no different.  
Instead of the lanky man I’d gotten used to, there was a snarling demon clawing at the walls and screaming in a language that no one was able to place. This one, I believed, was Wrath, judging by the claws and sharp teeth and general need to rip things apart. The guards had fired off a few rounds that had mostly hit the wall. The ones that hadn’t missed now had caused an inky black to drip from holes in scaled, grey skin. One moment, the Nightmare had been asleep, and the next, the hulking demon was in his place, clawing at the walls and almost ripping apart an unsuspecting guard who had just made it out by the skin of his teeth.  
I stepped in and swatted at the guards, “Imbeciles! You’ll kill him at this rate!” The guards were very obviously enraged by my outburst, sneering something about how The Nightmare wasn’t human so why should they care. Sometimes, I wished that the outcome for the X threats wasn’t so horrible, because I wanted nothing more than to toss that man at the caged demonic form and lock the door. See how well he deals with a few demonic teeth tearing into him. I could think on that one later, though. “I need a medikit for when he changes back,” I spat, snapping my fingers and pointing towards the door, one of the guards stomping off in irritation while another ducked behind the door, a chunk of the wall that Wrath had ripped out being thrown for him. I bit down a laugh at the yelp he’d given before carefully stepping inside the cell. “I’m going to need you to stop that, Wrath. You’re injured and that means he is, too.”  
The demon turned to me, five orange eyes narrowing at me before it seemed to shrink into itself, condensing into the tall, lanky young man I’d come to know as The Nightmare. As suspected, his white shirt had been stained with patches of black blood, though he paid his wounds little mind, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.  
“They’re getting bolder,” I said almost distantly as I stepped over to examine the depth of his wounds.  
“Or maybe I am,” he answered shortly.  
The rest of the visit went without incident or cryptic messages, and The Thorn and The Witch were entirely uneventful. The Zombie’d had to cope with his muzzle being a little too tight, and it had made it hard for him to answer even the simple questions I’d had to ask. I sighed, looking at a healing wound on his forehead, recognizing a bullet hole when I saw one. Testing just how many times he could heal before he was gone for certain, I supposed. He’d only given a sad look when I’d asked him about it, unable to speak much on the subject while the muzzle so inhumanely tight. I’d wanted so badly to rip something apart at that moment.  
And then came The Web.  
I walked in with my clipboard, trying to keep the simmering rage from boiling over at the guards. It took so much from me that my facade nearly slipped a few times, but I managed to hold it steady. The Web sat on the floor beside his bed, flashing me a smile as he motioned to the floor before him.  
“Right on time. How are you right now?” he asked as I took a seat.  
Rubbing my face, I spread my fingers enough to send a tired glare at him, hoping he’d understand.  
He nodded, smiling just before an alarm sounded and the guards outside of the cell took off.  
“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder.  
“A system error has caused the Zombie and the Witch to break loose for a moment. We have a minute to talk without anyone hearing what we have to say.”  
“About the Evil Eye,” I scoffed.  
He gave a slow nod, “They’re catching on to someone in their staff being a superhuman, and all eyes are going to fall to you. You’re the only one who has earned our trust.” A moment passed as I processed this before he continued. “Evil Eye doesn’t have much time left before something worse is made of him. After that, things will fall apart. You need to get him out of here before that happens.”  
Another pause as I shook my head, “The plan is to get everyone out. I’m not ready.”  
“Everyone will get out but the seven of us. We’ll be out later,” he reassured, keeping his hands folded in his lap, “I’m asking you because Evil Eye’s fate rests in your hands right now. He dies if you don’t. I understand that this is a lot to put on you, but you’re the only one who can.”  
I looked into my hands, shaking my head, “And how am I supposed to smuggle him out?”  
“The systems are going to go down again. This time, we’ll be there to riot. Every one of us is aware and has agreed to the stakes. We’re too important to the plan to be killed. Get him out, and don’t look back. Someone else will come for the others. We’ll be moved. Everything will be fine.”  
I shook my head, ready to say something when he stopped me.  
“Time’s up.”  
I quickly filled out the notes I usually had for him, getting up and walking out of the room, feeling weighed down as I made my final stop.  
Evil Eye sat, blindfolded and bound to a chair, looking broken and weaker than usual. Maybe this is what they had been trying to warn me about.  
I turned to the guard, “What’s happened to him?”  
“He’s refusing to eat. Apparently, he didn’t like the news that his little friend was made into a hunter,” the guard answered, the amused lilt in his voice setting my nerves on end.  
The rage that had threatened to bubble over had reached a boiling point, and I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Are you feeling alright? You look a little sick.”  
He looked confused for a moment before I could see the dizziness in his eyes. The room must have felt like it was spinning for him and he stumbled away as his stomach lurched from the intensity of it all. It wasn’t much, but it was enough for the moment.  
I walked into the cell, clearing my throat as Evil Eye’s head lolled in my direction.  
“Here with more bad news..?” he asked.  
“No,” I answered, stepping closer.  
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, “Ah. Doc. I’m glad they haven’t done anything to you.”  
“And they won’t.”  
Perhaps I was a little too confident, but my survival instincts had been created when I was a child and forged over years when I was a thief. Now, I stood before someone who could kill me with a single stare, and there was no fear chilling my spine. They hadn’t let me down, and I had to believe that the Web had been right about the fact that I wouldn’t die.  
Evil Eye let out a scoff of a laugh, “The confidence. You have gall, doc.”  
“I have more than that.”  
He let out a laugh or a choked sob. It was hard to really tell when the man in front of me was so broken and defeated. It was painful to witness. Not when, only a month ago, he’d been calmly joking about better days.  
To leave this place standing was a crime.  
I did what I needed to, only receiving half answers from him as he nearly broke apart.  
Returning to the lab, I worked out a plan, sucking in a deep breath. I just needed to create enough of a distraction to make it work. I turned in the research and headed to the back of the labs, eyeing some of the heavier equipment, settling on a pipe that I took with me to my desk. Closing my eyes, I began to concentrate, building the spinning world once again and projecting it to everyone in the lab all at once. I knew it would be disgusting, but everyone would be far too preoccupied to see when my facade slipped.  
It wasn’t long before everyone was too busy vomiting to notice as I tore through their files and took the pipe to their computers. The alarm blared again, and I stepped around the mess I’d created, shedding my lab coat as I wove through the halls, hiding in the shadows when the guards ran past me in the direction of the Nightmare’s cell, a loud screeching sound echoing through the halls. Pride, if I remembered correctly.  
The Witch ran past me, whispering an incantation as his hands glowed a faint red and electricity crackled between them, the Thorn following behind. I watched them in horror, as they ran into what could be their deaths. Running further in, I passed by the Zombie, whose muzzle hung loosely around his neck, a dangerous look in his eye as he rushed at another guard, the bullets passing through him but never even slowing him down. I never really appreciated just how dangerous they all were.  
By the time I reached Evil Eye’s cell, there were no guards nearby, and I pushed the doors open roughly.  
“Don’t know when they’ll be back. I’m getting you out of here.”  
He seemed more alert this time around, turning towards the sound of my voice. “What’s happening?”  
“Exactly what I just said,” I answered, walking over and taking off his blindfold to allow his eyes time to adjust after wearing it for so long. I didn’t have the key to unleash him, but I wasn’t a fool, and so I pulled the lock pick from the small case I always carried, making quick work of it.  
At this rate, the burning rage was enough to keep me from common sense, walking back to face him directly. “We’re making a break for it.”  
He shifted to rub at his wrists, looking me over with mild curiosity. “You know what I’m capable of.”  
“I do,” I answered, “But this has been orchestrated to get you out of here, and I’m not letting their sacrifices be in vain. Neither will you.” I leaned towards him, staring into his lethal eyes. “So get off the chair and follow me.”  
He swallowed hard, eyes wide as he nodded, standing upright and stumbling a bit before he straightened up, looking worse for wear. If the rumors I’d heard about his abilities were correct, then maybe he needed to use his powers to fend off the weakness of his limbs. He’d have plenty of chances to test the theory on the way out.  
It wasn’t long before the first chance came along, a guard running to back up the others catching sight of us and unloading a magazine at us. Evil Eye moved sluggishly a moment, stalking towards the guard as he went to reload, grabbing him by the shoulders. He tilted his head, his left eye shining red for a moment, as the guard seized up, his arms falling limply at his sides before Evil Eye tossed him aside, rolling his shoulders as his strength started to return.  
It took another three guards before he was running faster than I was, and I was too incensed to care about the bodies he was leaving in his wake. I did what I could to distract, taking out a few on my own with hallucinations and my own fists. By the time we made it outside, we were breathing hard, but there was a fire in his eyes that he certainly hadn’t had when I’d seen him before.  
I didn’t know where we were going when we got out of here, but I knew I couldn’t stay where I always had. Chances were that they had my face, now. With my face, they could get a name. I leaned against the concrete wall of the building to catch my breath, turning my head to look at the newly refreshed Evil Eye.  
“You’re insane,” he managed to laugh through heavy breaths, “You have to be, because no one in their right mind would break me out.”  
I thought about what I’d seen in the compound for a moment, shrugging slightly as I pushed myself from the wall and peering around the corner to check for any threats. There were too many for just the two of us to get past, and I knew only one of us could possibly make it through the remaining guards. I could make them hallucinate, but I was exhausted and I knew I couldn’t hold it for long, if I could even stretch myself thin enough to reach all of them.  
I’d given my best try, I supposed. Maybe I wasn’t meant to make it out.  
Evil Eye looked at me, concern lacing his expression. “What’s wrong?”  
“Too many of them. Not enough energy on my part. Should have planned this better,” I sighed, returning to my place against the wall.  
He nodded weakly a moment before taking a deep breath, “Follow my lead then, doc.”  
I didn’t have time to correct him before he stepped from behind the wall, running at the small army that waited. I watched from my hiding place, trying to mask his presence as he charged, the glow of his eye flashing before a line of guards fell, most likely as dead as the others. I weakly held myself against the wall, the last dregs of my energy fading away as I collapsed.  
I don’t know how much time passed, but I could have sworn someone was calling for a doctor and then there was dragging and a muffled whimper before it felt like every nerve in my body was alight with too much energy. My eyes shot open, watching as Evil Eye funnelled a guard’s life into me.  
“Why?” I asked, gathering my bearings as he concentrated.  
He didn’t answer, and I assumed it was because he was so intently focused on draining the guard’s energy into me, but even two months later, as we sat in the abandoned building we called home, he still had never told me why he’d saved me from being captured when he didn’t even know me at the time.  
I sipped at my tea, leaning back into a dusty chair as I examined his face. He was looking at a map that I’d carefully drawn out, planning something, his brows furrowed as he considered something he wouldn’t share.  
“The people funding the compounds will be there?” he asked, “And you’re planning to… what?”  
I shrugged, “Steal the plans for the new V compound, maybe steal a few hundred canapes while I’m at it.”  
“Not big enough,” he chuckled, one of the ones that made him almost shake from amusement, “though the canapes do sound good. If you want to make a statement, stealing some plans isn’t going to do that.”  
I frowned, “I’ve heard that they’re putting the highest threats into that prison. I get the plans, I can break them out.”  
“No one knows about them but a handful of people. It’s not a threat.”  
“It’s gratitude,” I replied bitterly, “You owe them for orchestrating all of that.”  
“And I’ll pay them back, I swear, but, at the very least, steal the plans after the compound is built so that they don’t change anything,” he sighed, “And get some IDs on our marks.”  
“Fine!” I groaned, “But I’m stuffing every pocket with hors d'oeuvres and I’ll eat every last one in front of you if you judge me for it, Taemin.”  
He looked up at me with an amused expression, “I don’t doubt it.”


End file.
